


Title

by somethingsintheair



Category: TWRP | Tupper Ware Remix Party (Band)
Genre: Gen, gotzine, meouch is Angry, sassy italics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-11-04 05:49:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10984650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somethingsintheair/pseuds/somethingsintheair
Summary: Havve sat calmly on the couch as Meouch paced back and forth in front of him. “I DO NOT UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU ARE ASKING, COMMANDER,” he said. “ELABORATE.”“Well... you always call him ‘doctor,’ right?” Meouch questioned. “You don’t ever wonder what he’s a doctorof?”--Meouch questions some things. Originally written for the TWRP zine that came out last month!





	Title

If one were to wonder just what Doctor Sung was a doctor of, all they would have to do is ask. If asked directly, he was likely to respond with an enthusiastic shout of “experimental high kicks!” followed promptly by a demonstration. That was his favorite way to respond, after all, especially with the added opportunity to show off his skills.

When he had the chance, however, he liked to get creative with his claims.

For example, if a woman were to question his credentials, he’d claim he’d spent years studying “female pleasure,” or something along those lines. Most of the time, he’d only get a laugh in reply before the woman walked away.

One time, it actually worked, and Meouch was furious.

The doctor would make offhand comments about his title all the time, and Meouch would always assume he was joking. The first time he had asked for real, Sung had replied with “friendship, of course!” and they’d moved on. Then, there was the time Sung had sent his keytar soaring across the stage. After the show, he’d left to assess the damage. Meouch had gone looking for him, and found the man carefully disassembling his instrument.

When asked if everything was alright, Sung had replied with “Of course, she’ll be fine! I didn’t get my PhD in keytar repairs for nothing.” And that was the end of that.

It had become like an excuse. A way to justify his skills, to reassure them that he knew what he was doing. It took a while for Meouch to realize that, and once he did, he went to the second smartest person he knew for answers.

“I just don’t _get_ it.” He sat down on the bed next to Phobos. “The guy couldn’t possibly have gotten all those credentials, that’s just fuckin’ stupid. Right?” He looked to Phobos, who strummed his agreement on his guitar. “And, like, I know the guy’s been around for... a long time, yeah, but no way in hell he found a school for _sexual healing_.”

Phobos just shrugged.

“It’s not even just that,” Meouch continued, “Nothing he comes up with makes any sense. A person can only spend so long studying the fundamentals of _high kicking_ before they’ve learned it all. And I can tell you right now it’s not enough to warrant a PhD.”

Phobos played a few notes in reply.

“What do you _mean_ it doesn't matter? The guy seems to know everything about us, don't you wanna know where it all comes from?”

Another shrug. Phobos was looking at Meouch like he was the weird one in this situation.

Third smartest it was, then.

Havve didn't seem care about much of anything, but he did seem to know a lot about Sung. They'd known each other the longest out of the four of them, after all. Meouch still wasn't sure what had gone on between the time they'd met and the time he and Phobos had arrived, but they must've gotten to know each other _somewhat,_ right? At least enough for the guy to know that one particular detail.

Havve sat calmly on the couch as Meouch paced back and forth in front of him. “I DO NOT UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU ARE ASKING, COMMANDER,” he said. “ELABORATE.” 

“Well... you always call him ‘doctor,’ right?” Meouch questioned. “You don’t ever wonder what he’s a doctor _of?_ ”

Havve paused. “WHAT.“

“ _Sung._ He’s a _doctor._ ” Meouch put his head in his hands. He was getting real sick of all this shit. “What’s his doctorate in?”

Havve gave him a blank stare. His stare was always blank, given, but this one somehow seemed even more emotionless than before.

“He... _is_ a doctor, right?”

Havve cocked his head to the side. “THAT IS HIS NAME, YES.”

Meouch blinked. “What?”

“THAT IS HIS NAME. DOCTOR.”

“ _What?_ That’s a title, dimwit, it’s not his...” Meouch shook his head. “No, you’re fucking with me, right?”

“YOU KNOW THAT I DO NOT POSSESS THE CAPACITY TO TELL JOKES, COMMANDER.” Havve crossed his arms. “I BELIEVE YOU ARE THE ONE JOKING HERE. NEXT YOU’RE GOING TO TELL ME THAT YOUR FIRST NAME IS NOT ‘COMMANDER.’”

Meouch froze. “It’s... it’s not.”

“...OH.”

“Yeah.”

Havve glanced towards the door. “AND... LORD PHOBOS.”

Meouch shook his head. “The guy was a noble on his home planet.”

Havve’s eyes flickered. “OH.”

Meouch breathed out an exasperated sigh. “I’m just... I’m gonna go talk to him myself,” he muttered before he stormed out of the room.

Sung was working at his desk in his room, as usual. Meouch was usually hesitant to interrupt him, but this time, he didn’t hesitate. He knocked on the door as he pushed it open, and promptly slammed it shut behind him.

Sung wasn’t even fazed. He had a smile on his face when he turned to face the Commander. “Yes?”

“I’ve known you for years, yeah?” Meouch began, “You’ve spent all this time lookin’ after us— you made Phobos’s helmet, you work on Havve when he needs it, you fixed me up that time one of my strings snapped and almost took my eye out...”

The man nodded. “All true, yes. You’re welcome.”

“I wanna know what the fuck qualifies you to do that.”

Sung frowned. “What do you mean, Commander?” he asked. His voice had such a genuine tone to it, Meouch almost felt bad for being so harsh.

Almost.

“I mean… you’re a doctor, right?” Meouch asked. “What are you a doctor _of?_ ”

Sung just stared. “What?”

“You’re a doctor, what the fuck is your doctorate in?” he asked. “You give a different answer every time someone asks, and I just wanna know what it really is. You never told me for real.”

“I’m... not a doctor of anything, Commander,” Sung replied. “I thought you knew that.”

“You... _what?_ ”

“‘Doctor’ is just my first name.” Sung shrugged. “Why would I have human credentials? I’m not human.”

Meouch just stared. If looks could kill, he would’ve at least burnt a hole in the man’s visor by now. “You’re not serious.”

“Dead serious. Why, what’s your first name?”

“It’s not Commander, I’ll tell you that much.”

“Hm.” Sung put a hand to his chin. “Well, I’m sorry. I assumed you’d figured it out by now.”

Meouch threw his hands up. “I can’t fucking believe this,” he said, already storming out of the room. “Who the fuck names their kid _Doctor?_ ”

**Author's Note:**

> Physical copies are out of stock, but a PDF of the zine can be purchased [here!](https://gumroad.com/l/ZLfIB) More info can be found [@twrpzine](https://twrpzine.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr.


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